December 24th – The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons in Kyoto and Shinjuku
The strongest jujutsu sorcerer alive, Satoru Gojo, sprinted through the empty streets of Kyoto. A barrier had been cast, ensuring civilians evacuated under the guise of a "terrorist attack." His steps echoed eerily as he dashed to where cursed spirits wreaked havoc on innocent lives
BAM!
"Ouch…" A soft thud as someone fell to the ground.
Startled, Gojo skidded to a halt. He couldn't sense anyone nearby—no cursed energy, aura, nothing. "Who…" he muttered quietly to himself out of confusion.
"If you take these off…" Before he could react, a hand slipped up to loosen and pull the bandages down.
"What—"
"—You'd be able to see."
She unravelled the fabric covering his eyes. As the last roll fell away, Gojo's vision adjusted to reveal a girl standing before him. She had long, black hair that cascaded over her waist. Her gentle, floral scent clouded his mind, momentarily banishing the chaos around him. Nothing about her feels right.
"Are you okay?" Her voice brought him back to reality.
Gojo instinctively stepped back, a defensive barrier of infinity activated. She did not realise a thing and took a step closer; her hand reached out to grab his hand.
She placed the bandages neatly into his palm before leaving."Please don't run with your eyes covered again. It's dangerous."
"Wait—" Gojo sensed a massive curse spirit materialising behind her. The grotesque creature raised its claws to strike.
He didn't intervene as he could immediately see how the attack just passed right through her like she wasn't there.
"Yeah?" She tilted her head. "Is something wrong?"
He was too stunned to speak.
A brief moment passed, "If nothing, then I'll leave now. Take care." She bowed quickly and walked off.
Gojo froze, watching in disbelief as she walked through the cursed spirit, unscathed and seemingly unaware of its existence.
Just like that, she disappeared into the distance, leaving Gojo in stunned silence.
6 months later
Gojo was sitting in a café with his date—another one. Going on dates had become something of a hobby for him.
The rich aroma of coffee filled the air in the cozy Tokyo café. Laughter and the soft murmur of conversations surrounded them as they sat at a corner table.
"This cake is amazing!" the woman across from him exclaimed, her bright brown hair bouncing as she took another bite.
"Right?" Gojo grinned, his silver hair falling over his sunglasses. His casual outfit exuded effortless charm, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
No matter how sweet the cake, it couldn't fill the strange void inside him. For the past months, he'd been haunted by the memory of a girl he met on that cursed night in Kyoto. Battles, responsibilities, and countless distractions hadn't erased her from his mind.
At first, his obsession was analytical. Who was she? How had she bypassed his Infinity? Why was she able to walk through the cursed spirit like it wasn't there? But logic soon gave way to something deeper. Something was weird about her energy, and he needed to confirm.
He'd searched for her, of course. Every street, every lead, whether consciously or not. Yet she had vanished as if she had never existed.
The soft chime of a bell signalled the arrival of a new customer.
"Welcome!"
A petite figure entered the café, long black hair flowing down her back. Her beige sweater peeked out from under her coat.
Gojo froze mid-bite.
"Gojo-san?" His date waved a hand in front of his face. "Hey, are you okay?"
He didn't respond. Slowly, his gaze followed the girl to the counter, his breath catching.
"Is that… her..." he whispered, barely audible.
"Who?"
Ignoring the question, Gojo stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor as he crossed the café in quick strides.
"Gojo-san!" His date called after him, but he was already gone.
.
.
"You."
The girl turned, startled, as he grabbed her wrist.
"Ah-" She blinked up at him, her golden eyes wide with confusion. "That's… aggressive. Do I know you?"
Gojo stared, his mind racing. It is her.
But her words hit him like a blow.
She didn't remember him.
She furrowed her brows, pulling her wrist free. "What the hell," she muttered to herself, almost annoyed.
Gojo, for his part, couldn't look away. Seeing her again felt like a stroke of impossible luck.
The silence stretched between them, tension thick.
"Excuse me, miss," the barista interrupted, gesturing to the growing line. "Can I take your order now?"
She blinked. "Oh, right. Sorry! I'll have a cheesecake and a latte," she said, pulling out her card.
Before she could pay, Gojo stepped forward, tapping his card against the machine.
Beep.
"You're welcome," he said smugly, his usual demeanour was back.
"???" her face twisting in perplexity. "What?"
"Consider it payment for buying a day of yours," he said with a playful wink.
"Huh—? My Sunday isn't for sale, especially not for the price of a slice of cheesecake and coffee?"
"We can get more, then." He flexed his black card. "Wherever you please."
"But why—?"
The cashier handed her the food, and she took it with a sharp glare before walking out of the café, radiating one clear message: Don't follow me.
But of course, he did.
She walked briskly down the sidewalk, her cheesecake in one hand and a latte in the other. Determined to enjoy her afternoon, she tried to ignore the strange man tailing her.
Finally, she spun on her heel. "Why are you following me?"
"I'm not following you. I'm just walking in the same direction," he replied nonchalantly.
"Really?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Maybe."
Too tired to argue, she gave up and continued walking, only to find herself in a quiet park. The crisp air and swaying trees provided a brief reprieve.
Settling on a bench, she placed her cheesecake on her lap. Gojo leaned against a nearby lamppost, watching her with a faintly amused expression.
"My Sunday is ruined by someone I don't even know," she muttered under her breath, taking a bite of her dessert.
"The name's Satoru," he said with a grin. "Now you know me."
She glanced up skeptically. "…Right. That makes this so much better."
"Haha! And your name?"
"Aimi," she said reluctantly.
"So, Aimi," he began, his tone casual, "what are you?"
"What kind of question is that?" she replied curtly, taking another bite.
He pointed at a passerby wrapped in what he saw as a minor curse. "Can you see that thing?"
Aimi blinked, confused. "See what? If you mean the lady passing by, yes, I see her."
"Hmm…" Gojo hummed thoughtfully, "So you can't see".
She wasn't a sorcerer, nor did she seem to know anything about curses. Yet, something about her was not right.
As Aimi continued eating, Gojo approached her and knelt. His intense oceanic eyes gazed into hers, half-hidden by his sunglasses.
"What?" She clutched her cheesecake protectively.
He chuckled, then his gaze grew serious. Just as he was about to reach out to her face, his phone rang—a silly, comical ringtone.
"Great," he muttered, standing as he answered. "Yeah? Where? Got it. I'm on my way."
Aimi watched.
"Work," he explained.
"You don't seem like the type who works," her tone was mocky.
"You're not wrong," he shrugged. "But I've got to go."
"Finally."
Gojo lingered for a moment, his gaze locked on her.
"Aimi," he said quietly.
"What…" She blinked, startled by the way he said her name.
"We'll meet again." A faint smile tugged at his lips.
She frowned. "I hope not."
"Haha! You don't have a choice." His cheery persona returned.
"I don't know if you realise how creepy you are."
"Touché," he grinned, vanishing in an instant. "See ya, Aimi-chan!"